


Hannigram in IKEA

by TeaWithMeAtThree



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Controlling Will, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Excited Will, Happy Cannibal, Husbands, Hyper Will, IKEA, IKEA Stereotypes, IKEA Traditions, Kisses, M/M, PDA, Will is basically a puppy, bad food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaWithMeAtThree/pseuds/TeaWithMeAtThree
Summary: Will persuades Hannibal to go to IKEA. A story full of adorable Will and smitten Hannibal, with experiences including eating possibly-horse-meat meatballs and buying Swedish furniture (and maybe even a dog duvet cover).





	

Gaudy yellow and blue are, in Hannibal's humble opinion, not the most luxurious colours. However, weeks of nagging had persuaded him to agree on a trip to IKEA.  
Now, the whole affair was making Will electrified and feverish with excitement. He was more excited about this than any outing they'd been on together.

"I can't believe you've never been to IKEA before!" he exclaimed, climbing into the Bentley.  
"You have mentioned," replied Hannibal, as he prepared the car to leave.  
"I'm still in shock."  
"Not as shocked as when I first told you."  
"I still have bruise on my back from where I hit the table in my surprise!"  
"I had noticed."

The drive was long, and provided plenty of time for Will to make them listen to the entirety of his 'favourite songs' album. He was a little too happy for Hannibal's liking and it wasn't helped by ridiculously enthusiastic covers of "Jessie's Girl" or "Clocks".

Upon arriving at IKEA, the first novelty was the car park. Hannibal passed the ticket received on entering to Will, who clung to it like it was made of gold. The swirls of concrete ramp were easy to manoeuvre (considering Hannibal's elegant driving) but Will still made little noises as they went up, as if they would bump into the walls at any moment.

After the ridiculous swirls, Hannibal was not surprised to discover that the shop had further peculiarities, such as a design requiring them to travel to the very top floor to reach the entrance. Of course, it would not be an entrance to IKEA without spinning doors.

"I would go round and round forever in these as a kid; whenever I saw them - until Dad told me off."  
"And as a 38 year old man..."  
"I plan to go around them with you."  
"Will..." Hannibal was dragged over into a segment and the pair waddled around. When Hannibal tried to exit into the store, Will blockaded him with his arms, forcing them back round the circle again.  
"Will." Hannibal stared at him and tried to give him the ultimate look of disapproval. However, he forgot that the door was moving and got bumped by it, knocking him forwards in a far-less-graceful-than-usual stumble.  
"You alright there?" Will's smile was contagious and, despite his discomfort at the mistake, Hannibal found a small smile breaking onto his lips. He let out a harsh tut and proceeded to continue in the circle, scolding the smile away then walking purposefully into the store when they reached the opening, being sure to knock Will's arm out the way when he tried to stop him.  
"Not again?"  
"No." Hannibal responded.

As they walked to the trolleys, Will noticed a small girl - around seven or eight years old - watching them. Whilst her parents were distracted talking, she came over to the men and asked-  
"Why did you go round in the door lots?"  
"I fear my husband forgot to step out," Hannibal answered, glancing to Will.  
"Something like that," he added, scratching his chin. The girl ran back to her parents, leaving as quickly as she'd arrived.  
"Brevity is the soul of whit," murmured Hannibal. Will chuckled and threw the duffle bag he had brought with him - Hannibal did not question it, the man was mad enough already without further questioning - into a shopping cart.  
"Are you hungry?" asked Will.  
"I could eat." The pair followed the crowd of people, but veered away as Will followed the arrows to the restaurant. It was a well-lit area with many classically-IKEA tables and chairs.  
"You have to try the food," declared Will, having slotted their trolley in a holder and now dragging Hannibal towards the queues. "It's practically a delicacy."  
"No no no." Hannibal dug his heels into the ground and Will staggered to a stop. "I made food last night for us to bring - surely it is in that bag. We do not need to eat this..."  
"I'm sorry: I did not bring it. I knew you would refuse if there were other options available. It was bad of me - I know - but, for now, would you try this?"  
"Didn't bring it? This? Will, I cannot."  
"Oh come you stubborn man," Will whined reaching up a hand to Hannibal's head. Will moved closer, drawing himself in front of Hannibal. "For me?" Will's eyes gleamed and Hannibal knew there was no way he could resist his husband's demands. It was his one weakness. He would jump off a cliff if Will asked him to. He leant down and enjoyed an addictive, satisfied kiss.  
"Fine," he mumbled against Will's lips. Will bathed in his small victory. Of course, he was always going to win. They knew that.

Hannibal followed Will to a queue encased by metal poles, leading it in the right direction. He took the opportunity to neaten his hair, after Will had scuffled it out of place. They walked past many food choices, though Will insisted that they must both have the meatballs and mashed potato.  
"Is this freshly prepared today?" Hannibal asked the employee serving them.  
"I believe so," he replied in a gruff Irish accent. "S'you'd like that?" Hannibal screwed his nose up and frowned at the man.  
"Yes, two please," requested Will. Seeing as Will had now ordered his meal, he allowed him to deal with the rest of lunch too. They both found themselves with a mug of coffee and glass of water, alongside their dish.  
"We'll get dessert downstairs, once we're done." Will began to eat immediately, but Hannibal allowed a moment of composition before bracing himself to endure the meal.

Will consumed the meatballs with inconsistent fervour - this was because, every now and then, he would stop and just watch Hannibal for a bit. Hannibal found it disconcerting and arousing, the absolute attention Will had watching him eat the substandard food. He was not enjoying the meal, and Will feasted on that displeasure. It was a devouring gaze. Once or twice, Hannibal pulled a sour face on purpose, just to get that hungry attention from Will.

"The ingredients, the preparation-"  
"Are not up to your standard: I know," interrupted Will, "but they do share something in common with your cooking - neither are really made of beef."  
"The horse meat scandal. You would compare that to the source of my meat?" Will chuckled at Hannibal's irritation. It seemed the entire meal would consist of amused, attractive Will and irritated, insatiable Hannibal. Honestly, both loved the situation.

"You are not having more coffee!" Hannibal held Will's wrist firmly to the table.  
"Soda?"  
"No. Absolutely not."  
"Milk?"  
"Will."  
"But it's free refills!"  
"That does not mean we must constantly accept the machine's charity." Hannibal swept up all their dishes and cutlery, particularly swiping the mugs from Will's reach, as he was concerned that the consumption of even more fluid would cause Will to develop hyponatremia.  
"Surely it is therapeutic for me to carry out repetitive tasks?" asked Will as he followed Hannibal like a puppy. Hannibal paused en-route to the tray unit to answer Will.  
"Not if that task involves getting as many refills as you can before you fill yourself. And, even then, I am wary you would keep going."  
"Good job I brought spare clothes then."  
"You brought... What are you planning?" Will winked and pushed Hannibal onwards. The man moved reluctantly, and only really due to the pressure on his shoulders.  
"It's a surprise."  
"I don't like surprises." Will hummed sceptically at that.  
"Right... So I should forget about Hannibal-surprise-I'm-a-cannibal-and-wanted-serial-killer then?"  
"Surprises to me."  
"It's because you're a control freak." Hannibal fingered the knife on the tray he carried. Will noticed. "The best control freak l know." He placed a hand down over that on the knife and gave Hannibal a hasty peck on the cheek. Hannibal responded with a little-less-than-chaste kiss to Will's cheek, at which he hurried back to the trolley with a deep blush blossoming. Hannibal smiled at that.

Placing the tray into a slot in the tidying unit, Hannibal spotted Will stood by a map with the trolley. In his hand were 6 pencils.  
"Do you need that many?" he questioned when he reached him. "It is as if you wish to create a Spirograph."  
"Oh - no, it's just another IKEA tradition."  
"Collecting pencils?"  
"They're free. We're giving them purpose." Will handed one to Hannibal. "Not dissimilar to giving purpose to a dead body." Hannibal held the pencil up before him to inspect it. In doing so, he completely missed Will walking off, and the man was already a fair distance away when Hannibal started to follow him.

However, Will was not walking towards the body of the store.  
"I told you those drinks would-"  
"That is not the reason I want to go to the toilet," stated Will. He reached down and scooped out a small stack of clothing from the bag.  
"You brought a suit with you?"  
"I thought I could wear it, so I matched with you, for these first departments."  
"Right..." Clearly, Hannibal didn't quite understand Will's intentions; not until he spotted the rest of the clothes in the bag. "Are you changing into different clothes for different sections of the store?"  
"We will. Luckily, you're already prepared for this one." Will grinned and went to change. It gave Hannibal time to look through the remaining contents of the bag. He found jeans, shirts, shoes...  
"You'll spoil the surprises," reprimanded Will, hitting Hannibal's hand away so he could put his old clothes back into the bag. With his attention moved away from the bag, all Hannibal now noticed was Will in that suit. It was navy and tailored so the fabric was tight across his body. He was elegant and refined, and the colours completed Hannibal's plaid, grey, blue and red three-piece beautifully.  
"All you're missing," said Hannibal, fighting away the want in his voice, "is this." Will stood still as Hannibal wound a tie through the collar, fingers brushing the back of his neck and causing sparks to trickle down his spine. With a firm tug, the knot pushed snugly to his neck, and Will forgot to breathe as Hannibal's hand lingered there.

"Right." Hannibal pulled away. Will closed his eyes and wished away the amounting feeling within him. Hannibal spotted the tension and enjoyed Will's attempts at control - now it was his turn to feast on discomfort.

Fortunately for Will, IKEA provided many distractions. The couple wandered through the different home displays. Hannibal critiqued and explained how it could be improved, or said that it was simply irrecoverable and should be remodelled. This continued until they reached a certain apartment. It was designed to mimic grandeur, whilst incorporating IKEA's simplicity and Swedish roots, and accomplished it splendidly.

Will swore he heard Hannibal sigh as he stepped into the mock living room. Instantly, the man was home. You could notice it in the slight change of stance, transitioning to that he settled in when relaxed, and his movements became a warm dance. In Will's mind, the rest of store disappeared, leaving them together in the room. Likewise, Hannibal found himself absorbed where he stood, ignorant of others.

"Fond?" Will came up behind Hannibal and nudged him.  
"It's... Satisfactory," he answered, turning to Will.  
"You could imagine living here?" Will asked, his arm looping around Hannibal's waist (who reciprocated the gesture.) He nodded.  
"With me?"  
"Of course, William." Now Hannibal messed up Will's hair (well, more than it already was) as he nuzzled against him affectionately. It was then that the girl from earlier appeared in front of them. She had a quizzical expression, and when Hannibal nudged kisses on Will's forehead, she cried out in disgust. Hannibal looked unimpressed but Will just laughed.  
"Kissing is yucky," she warned, "and you can get each other's germs."  
"Thankfully, neither of us have a cold," Will told her. Now she seemed unimpressed, though she quickly moved on.  
"I'm Abigail."  
"I'm Will, and this is-"  
"Hannibal."  
"H-Abiga-nibal." This won Will a harsh tap on the back of his head, but he just smiled more.  
"That's not a name," she complained.  
"It's European." Before she could respond to that, a voice called her name.  
"Bye!" she shouted, scuttling back to her parents. Hannibal breathed sharply out his nose.  
"We've made a friend," teased Will.  
"An incompetent one."  
"She's just young."  
"I was wise when I was seven. Not going up to strangers and telling them their name does not exist."  
"Hmm, well, I was not. Neither is she."  
"I don't believe it," Hannibal answered. "I'm certain you would have been significantly more competent at social interaction then she is."  
"Probably because I never did socialise. Can't be bad at something you don't do."  
"That is poor logic, Will." Will huffed and pulled away to look at the rest of the apartment.

Hannibal watched Will wander the apartment in his tailored suit, considering both how wonderful he looked and also how the entire apartment probably came to less than the price of the blazer he wore.  
"Come - it's hardly like we're going to buy any of this," grumbled Will.  
"You say that with such certainty."  
"So... We might buy something?"  
"Well, we do need some bedside cabinets, after you stood on your glasses." Will grinned. "You really should not of left them on the floor."  
"I was in a hurry to take them off," justified Will. "Now, how about that one?" He pointed to the mahogany cylinder opposite them, but Hannibal turned sharply, taking the trolley and Will with him.  
"I would _prefer_ we look at all the options available, rather than make a quick decision."  
"Oh, well, we must go to the correct department then."  
"I assume you know where that is."  
"There should be a shortcut- just- here!" Hence, Hannibal discovered a further IKEA peculiarity: it was a store with shortcuts. It was a store that _required_ shortcuts.

The couple quickly found themselves in the bedroom section. Will's gaze lingered on a duvet cover collaged with over thirty different breeds of dog, Hannibal was insistent they did not require such an item.  
"Please..."  
"You are not charming your way into a purchase."  
"But it's dogs-" Hannibal's expression remained serious. "How about the fish one." _There was a fish version_. This was a _collection_. "How about both?"  
"The dogs, in the cart, now!" Will smirked, and speedily threw a pack into the cart.  
"Thank you," he sang, and Hannibal pretended to ignore the kiss Will granted him. "Bedside tables now?"  
"Indeed so, William."

There were many variations and, in a Goldilocks fashion, the couple compromised on something that complemented the room but did not try to blend in with the exquisite furniture. It would be IKEA - there would be no way to hide it - but, for Will and the happiness it would bring him, Hannibal was quite content for it to be so.

"Now we must change before continuing our perusing."  
"What do you have in mind." Truly, Hannibal did not want to change - more specifically, he hoped Will would stay in that suit just a while a longer. It had pulled many looks from other customers, and Hannibal thrived on the knowledge that Will was all his, that they would never get him. Possessive in a twisted-romantic-story way.  
"You are to wear this." White shirt, loose grey jeans, and adidas trainers.  
"It is an _interesting_ combination."  
"I mean, in my eyes, they match perfectly, but..."  
"You understand I may not share the view. So, how about you?"  
"I'm the same, but a crimson shirt." He held up the garment. Will was aware of Hannibal's fondness for that item - likely due to his unconscious association between the colour of blood and enjoyable pastimes. Fulfilment and pleasure, all connoted through the colour Will would wear on his back.

A shortcut to the toilet and a quick change, before the men emerged in their matching outfits.  
"I'm not sure this is-"  
"You love it! We look the same... Like twins."  
"That would make our relationship incestuous."  
"Well, all the outfits match, so you're going to have to grin and bear it."

Next stop was the children's section. They really had no reason to go there... The only child they knew was Abigail, and they had just met her today. However, to fulfill Will's nostalgia, they went. The first obstacle was the entrance. There was a huge archway, but Will insisted they try to fit through the child sized one.  
"You'd be surprised how easy it was," he informed Hannibal from the other side. Will's display of scuffed knees and weird-bone-clicking noises did not support his statement.  
"I'm not in my twenties anymore, Will."  
"You're hardly unfit. Or are you worried you now have _too many muscles_ to squeeze through."  
"These comments are hardly compliments - is that your means of persuasion?"  
"Oh, no, trust me - I can be very persuasive," answered Will in a seductive tone.  
Hannibal rolled his eyes and tutted. "Honestly, you'd think we _were_ in our twenties." Will shushed him with a pink cheeks. Hannibal waited a moment, a space of time in which Will's eyes never left his, and it became unbearable to be seperated by the few inches on space. He knelt down to the archway and poked his head through. However, flexibility was not his friend, and it was with reluctance that Will admitted he might not fit. Though, when Hannibal finally rose and walked through the large arch with the trolley, he wore the evidence of his attempt - hair displaced and trouser knees crumpled in a similar fashion to Will.  
"Thank you." Will muttered softly, taking Hannibal's hand and walking beside him through the section, sharing the task of pushing the trolley. Around them was the hustle and bustle of families and, though crying babies and tantrumming toddlers are hardly fun to listen to, they enjoyed the innocence of the childish melody.  
"They never had toys like this when I was a boy." Hannibal held up a stuffed carrot. "Not that I ever had toys though."  
"Would you like one now?" Will asked, eyeing the plushie vegetable with suspicion.  
"Of course not." Hannibal tapped Will on the head with it playfully before returning it to the container.  
"If that was the start of a fight..." Will braced himself and seized a carrot "...then I must warn you - I am a champion at toy fights."  
"Hmm," muttered Hannibal, retrieving his carrot again. He walked slowly up to Will (who showed little in the way of defence - just curiosity towards his enemy) and, once stood a hairs length apart, held to his head with one hand and stabbed him in the stomach with the carrot in his other.  
"Ahh.." Will groaned in mock defeat, and a slight snigger slipped from Hannibal as he held his dramatically dying husband.  
"Oh no!" Hannibal exclaimed, accent heavily Danish, when Will sliced his neck open in a dying arm wave.  
"Ahh, nah-" laughed the corpse.  
"Come on you," answered the other. As if staggering from a victorious battle, the grown men made there way out of the children's section. Hyperactivity bubbled within each of them, and displayed itself in the glint of their eyes (and, obviously, their ridiculous battle performance.)

"Is that it?" Hannibal asked when they reached the escalator, hands on hips and turning to look back at whence they came.  
"We did skip a lot of sections," reminded Will, "and, besides, there is another floor."  
"Oh." Hannibal's lips formed a little 'o' and Will had the urge to tap and create a popping noise. In a lapse of self-control, it seemed he did just that. The 'o' merged to an 'n' as Hannibal attempted to conceal his amusement.  
"I used to play Native American Indians as a kid," explained Will, "like on Peter Pan - tapping our mouths and saying aaaaaa."  
"Mischa did that," Hannibal replied. The hyperactivity faded to tenderness. Whenever he spoke of his sister, memories appeared like the ripples of moonlight on a pond. Glints of light, of hope, yet also the ground beneath. "She would tap my mouth as I tried to speak, blurring the words into noise." The trolley clicked it's brake on when they boarded the escalator.  
"Do you often see reminders of her?" Will inquired.  
"Not so much now." Hannibal's fingers flexed and stretched over the handle of the trolley. In a small motion, Will's joined his.  
"Whenever I work with the boats, I am reminded of my dad. It used to be in lots of things - fishing, drinking - but now it's just that, really."  
"It has been a long time for both of us. It is unsurprising that their company has faded."  
"Not to say we are alone though." muttered Will.  
"Quite. Some things will never leave. Though some are there intentionally - my mind palace, for instance."  
"And the mind palace I am building."  
"Is there a room for me yet, Will?"  
"In the _Duomo_. We share clothes, food, a bed - of course we share a room in my thoughts." The trolley clicked off again and they eased it back into walking.

"There's one last change of clothes planned." Barely any time had passed since they'd last changed, but Will was determined. Soon they stood together in coordinated, (stereotypically) _very_ _gay_ outfits.  
"It's true that clothes can sometimes display sexuality," commented Hannibal. "Are these even mine?"  
"I may've bought you a pair of skinny jeans especially for the occasion. You should wear them more often."  
"They're a little... Tight." Hannibal attempted to shift as gracefully as he could but, of course, that would seem to be a near impossible task.  
"That's the point." They began their journey to where the chosen bedside table was stored. When on the way to the checkout, they passed Abigail again.  
"Why did you get changed?" she asked. "Did you spill something?"  
"No, we just..." It seemed Will did not really know why they'd done it. Of course, Hannibal had some suggestions with regards to certain psychological phenomena, but perhaps Abigail wasn't the best audience for such theories. Among other things, Hannibal disliked having to translate jargon for simpler ears, and suspected he would have to spell out every word for the girl (and even then she probably wouldn't understand.)  
"Abigail, honey?" A blonde woman arrived, putting a face to the caking voice.  
"These are the men," Abigail proclaimed.  
"Yes, dear. Actually, if it would be alright, would you mind helping us a moment? I've injured my arm, and we could use a little assistance in getting the box down."  
"Of course," Hannibal replied, walking to her and allowing Will to follow.  
"Did you recently hurt your arm?"  
"Oh, no, a few weeks back. It's still sore, is all."  
"I can have a look, if you'd like? I am a Doctor."  
"Oh no, it's fine, thank you. Just a little pain." Hannibal nodded. Then they met the husband. He was balding, skinny, skittish and, from the look he gave them, slightly homophobic. However, he clearly needed help, and had decided he would accept the girl's choice. He introduced himself as Garrett, which just reminded Will of stuffed carrots. They really should've bought two. Maybe he'd sneak back another day and buy some.  
"On three: one, two..." Garret huffed as the men lowered the box onto the trolley. Hannibal, as usual, had a perfunctory hold on the box. When they were done, Garret muttered a brief thank you and steered his family away. Abigail waved excitedly.  
"He was rude," grumbled Hannibal. Will reached up and tucked a stray hair behind Hannibal's ear.  
"We are not killing Abigail's father. We would never do that to her." Hannibal gave a minute sigh.  
"Your empathy saves more lives than you may realise, Will. Now, come, let's pay for this, before I succumb to temptation and find a sharp piece of wood to-"  
"Yes. Let's."

Ice cream revealed itself as the final IKEA tradition for Will to perform before he could complete the nostalgic ritual. By perform, one means to say that he must buy and eat the synthetic creation. It was obtained from a machine and, though chosen to be strawberry, had dollops of chocolate sauce from the previous ice cream created.

Usually Hannibal treasured Will's kisses; this was not so when he tasted of cheap ice cream.  
"We will go to Italy and I shall buy you gelato. Then you will realise the sins of that _thing_." Hannibal gestured to the sticky, half eaten cone in Will's hand.  
"Want a bit?" He pushed it abruptly to Hannibal's face, leaving a smudge of chocolate sauce which the man removed with an expression of distaste.  
"No." Still, Will persisted in peppering marks of ice cream in the shape of his lips about Hannibal's chin.  
"Marking your territory?"  
"Better this than urine." Hannibal's eyebrows curved at the suggestion.  
"Let's go, before you start to get other weird ideas," prompted Hannibal, guiding them out.  
"We must hurry, else we'll miss the parking ticket time span. Besides, we have a cupboard to build, and I can't wait to see you attempt that."  
"Surely it is simple?"  
"Me and you building a cupboard: of course. I mean, what could go wrong?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> That was lots of fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> In the creation of this story, I came up with a long list of ideas of things to do in IKEA, so if inspiration strikes we may end up with a sequel. An illegal-cannibalistic-sleepover-in-IKEA sequel. We'll have to wait and see ;)


End file.
